


All Friends and Kingdom Come

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Needles [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Of Needles, Wars or Hands of Time and Stability, a Search For</p><p>From this prompt in the kinkmeme:</p><p>AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive</p><p>Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there.</p><p>Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive.</p><p>Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.</p><p>And then Charles pulls Erik from the water</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            **All Friends and Kingdom Come, part one**

 

            **All Friends...**

 

            Erik feels like Lot's wife, sometimes, or Orpheus from that Greek myth he found in Charles' head. Everything is fine as long as he doesn't look back.

 

            Even the dreams aren't bad, not really, just old dreams he's gotten used to. Nothing new, nothing about losing Charles or seeing the CIA turn on them, not even anything from the camps and Shaw. A clean break, twenty years gone and unthought of as long as he doesn't look for them.

 

            It would be easy to relax, and trust to the peace found between them. Never look back, or forward (because without a past, how can you imagine the future?) but just now. And now is so good. Such a time cannot last long and will not come again, and it's because of that Erik cannot enjoy it, and has to remember. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.

 

            Charles tries not to. He feels his mind draw away from any thoughts on the past, as though trying to erase them and pretend they never happened. Erik lets him, let Charles be happy, god only knew, he'd had little enough of it, and it is up to Erik to protect him now. Unlike Erik, however, he's surrounded by memories, and can't break free that easily.

 

            He didn't meet the eyes of their newest recruit, the beautiful woman from the club, with the hard, brittle edges of a Submissive surviving alone. She looked at them with proud eyes of those who have lived through the worst life can throw at them and Erik had inclined his head a little in respect.

 

            He'd thought Charles' reaction when they entered the club had been due to some previously hidden prudishness and the discomfort of a rich boy in sordid surroundings. The way Charles sits down heavily on their hotel bed, pinches his nose and attempts to silence the ongoing roar of his thoughts suggests otherwise.

 

            Erik pushes him back onto the bed and climbs on beside him, lining up perfectly chest to back. Charles presses back and sighs, mind calming. He gives a sudden laugh, one without humour.

 

            "After so long of being on the receiving end of those looks, I never thought I'd be giving them." His shoulders shake, another aborted laugh.

 

            Erik studies the nape of Charles' neck before gently kissing it, just above the collar. He's not sure of how to say any of it, so he just sends his feelings to Charles, broad question, inquiry, _you can tell me anything_.

 

            "I know." Charles wriggles free and starts undressing. It's late, they've been driving all day. They're both tired.

 

            It's when they're both under the covers, back in the same position, bare skin this time, that Charles touches the bond gently. "Would you like to see what it looked like to me?" Spoken softly, half to the pillows.

 

            _Show me_. And they're both back in the strip club, looking through Charles' eyes at the dancers. The angles are different, and Erik is noticing things he hadn't before, like how so many held themselves in that very familiar posture characterising half the population, or how that one there still bore the marks of a collar, recently removed, the cold crackle of broken bonds. The club blurred and was overlaid by more memories, older ones, from New York and Oxford, passing past similar seedy places and avoiding them like the plague for the reminder they gave him.

 

            Erik blinks, the room returning around them, he hooks an arm around Charles and pulls him in. "You didn't-"

 

            "Oh no." Charles is smiling, in a way that makes Erik wish he'd stop. "No, I always had plenty of money, but it was a reminder, all the same. It's hard enough to find work with one-" He touches the collar. "Without one-" his shoulder moves in a shrug. Erik kisses it, warm skin. "-most Submissives haven't even been taught much else, and treated like-" _all backs turned on you, all glad they are not you, keep away, don't come near us, should be-_ the thought breaks off.

 

            "Tell me." Erik whispers.

 

            _Flash of emotions, feeling, a memory, sympathysadpity-_

 

            "Tell me. Out loud." The thought trembles, fractures. Charles shudders, to look back is to fall back into the underworld. He can feel the edge of the memory, still sharp from Charles avoiding and blocking it. "Tell me."

 

            "It was just once," Charles is speaking so softly he sounds half asleep, a contrast to the broken shards in his mind. "But really, he was just telling me what everyone else was thinking, and I'd been trying to pretend they weren't."

 

            A pause, Erik runs his fingers over the back of Charles' hand, resting on the bed. He flexes it and Erik can feel the tendons move under the skin. Soft hands, never knowing hard physical work.

 

            "It was for a research position. In Oxford. Before I got my doctorate. They let me in for that. I had the grades, and the money. They couldn't not. And this one professor who was interviewing me-" _an image; heavy, drooping, bulldog face. Sympathetic and pitying._ "He was professional enough, we got most of the way through the interview before he asked me what my Dominant thought of this."

 

            Charles pauses, closes his eyes. Erik rubs his head against his back. _I'm here_.

 

            "He knew the truth, of course. But I told him." The tension, the sharp edges, it hurt even to think of it. "You were dead. And he got up and stood next to me, and-"

 

            Erik can see it in Charles mind even as he speaks. The sad-faced old man, mind reeking pity, one hand on Charles' shoulder. "My advice to you is to go home,"

 

 _get down that bottle of pills I know you're keeping somewhere,_

             "and take them this evening."

 

 _Stop pretending you can do this_.

 

            Charles stops, the images mixing into a mess from which Erik can catch a few glimpses. Charles collapsing in the car afterwards. Raven having to be restrained from throttling the professor when she finds out  - Erik would have beaten her to it - The way Raven not so secretly kept a watch on him for the next few days.

 

            _I wouldn't have- she knew it- but it didn't... help..._

 _No._

 _It's - not - I didn't - but what else can you do when that's all they expect-_

 _Shh_. Stroking Charles' shoulders, his back, his chest, his arms and face. Charles turns and wraps his arms around Erik, breathing into his chest. _I'm here, I've got you_. He doesn't know what else to say.

 

            _Got you_. Charles agrees. _I just-_

 _Shh. Don't think._

 _Only-_

 _Be silent. You're mine, submit, sleep. I'm here_.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

            When it gets bad, Charles simply follows the link back and buries himself in Erik's mind. It's a bit of a mess in there, but Erik is warm and welcoming and safe. Charles can close his eyes and just be still, letting the world move on around them. Erik's mind circles his, hunting down anything bad until Charles feels it's safe to go back, opening his eyes to Erik's, blue on blue, and everything is good again.

 

            _Yes, that's it. Shh._

 

            He can feel Erik's glorious joy at have him, looking after him, knowing he's safe. Erik's been alone for so long, even more alone than Charles, who at least had Raven, and he quietly rejoices at having him, even while he fears that the world would try and take him away again.

 

            It's calm, even if they are in the capital, having failed to recruit the last mutant on their list, a hairy runt of a man- self contained, with no bond at all- who had made his option of them quite clear. They'd spent the rest of the day in the capital until the presence of so many minds exhausted Charles, and they'd retired to the now deserted Lincoln Monument. By this point, the chess game had been abandoned in favour of looking over the water and watching the sunset.

 

            It's done. It's a relief, as exhilarating as it had been. All those people. They'd only recruited those few who were adults, and even then they were all young, younger than Raven and Hank. Erik had refused to help the CIA recruit children, and shredded the list afterwards. Charles feels a little guilty all the same. All these people, these minds. Growing up alone, ignorant of what they were. Leaving them, after having heard their hopes and fears, feels like a betrayal of trust.

 

            Erik must have heard him, because he leans down and kisses Charles' hair, nuzzling him. "You worry about the most absurd things." Exasperation and fondness in his voice, echoing through the bond.

 

            Charles lies down, and turns his head, looking up at Erik upside down until Erik relents and kisses him. A moment. Charles is collecting them. Whatever happens next, even if Erik is somehow right and things end badly, he'll have these moments. Finding Erik in the water, that first night, the collar, an evening spent in the complex' rather luxurious bath, Raven teasing Erik until he finally laughs. This. Perfect.

 

            "We are at the start of something incredible." Charles sits up, he can see himself through Erik's eyes, hair mussed and lips red from the kiss. He smiles. "We can help them." _It would be wrong not to, if we can_.

 

            Erik shakes his head, his mind flickers and Charles tries to pull away as it flicks back to the past. He ignores the wordless _dontwanttogodontwanttolook_ and forces Charles to see. Hiding in a basement in Dusseldorf, in a coal cellar in the ghetto. How much easier to be found if you had a telepath? Such power in the hands of those who had never proven themselves anything but murderous. It started like this, with identification, and ended-

 

            Charles shakes his head, "Not this time." Erik looks at him, as if asking who he thought he was convincing, "We have common enemies, they need us, if only against Shaw." The name almost hurts to say.

 

            "For now." Erik's hand is clenched on his shoulder almost enough to hurt, but his mind is elsewhere, on the young people they've recruited, who are even now waiting for them back at headquarters. _His people_. Young and vulnerable. A people with no stains on their souls or their past. Charles curls up against Erik, watching the sun set, the shadows of the chess pieces growing long against the stairs until the sun is gone completely, and they disappear.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

            They only have time to return to headquarters before Moira calls them. They have news of Shaw.

 

            It's- Erik knew this was going to happen. But it's too soon. He'd thought- nothing lasts, he knows that, ought to have remembered it. But he'd hoped to have longer.

 

            The panic is back, screaming at him to run, to take Charles and Raven and the rest and go somewhere, anywhere, where Shaw and the CIA and the Russians and Americans alike could never find them. Charles slides his hand under the table and takes his and Erik calms a little. But they're still not ready.

 

            _We don't have a choice_. Charles' thoughts are hesitant, mindful or Erik's order to obey. _He's working with the Russians. No one can be safe from nuclear war_.

 

            And he's right, Erik looks down at his hands. Calm. he can do this. He's trained to do this and this time he'll have help. The CIA are prepared this time and while Erik thinks the children will be more of a hindrance than a help, Raven at least looks like she can take care of herself, if only by surviving the wreck they've made of the sitting room. He nods to her- "Come on"- before turning to Charles.

 

            "Erik," he starts, then falls silent when Erik tugs him forward with the collar.

 

            "You are staying here." He can feel Charles trying to find some way to do something while still not disobeying the order.

 

            "What?" Moira is staring at them. "No! We need Charles. We can't possibly take these kids, you can't seriously be suggesting-"

 

            Erik closes the gap between them in two strides, he's a good head and a half taller than Moira and, Dominant or not, she backs off a step. "Can you seriously be suggesting I take him along. When Shaw will be there? In that kind of danger?"

 

            Moira looks at him, unflinching. "We need him. Frankly, we need all of you. But we need him most of all. What good will it do if Shaw kills us because he wasn't there? What good will it do for him?"

 

            "Excuse me," Charles interrupts, walking to stand next to Erik. Erik glares at him, _what did I tell you about obeying_? He flinches, backs off a step, but still presses on. "There's another way, I can stay here, but I can still be of help."

 

            Erik pauses, Moira looks at him. "Go on."

 

            Charles smiles, that small, impish smile Erik has come to dread and treasure in equal amounts, and nods towards Cerebro.

 

            "The plane is leaving in an hour!" Moira calls after them.

 

            "Then tell it to wait!" Erik answers, walking quickly towards the Cerebro installation. They leave Hank to prepare the machines, and Erik uses some of the floorplates to make a chair. Charles will be connected for some time.

 

            "I'll be fine." Charles examines the headpieces. He's almost eager. Erik shakes his head.

 

            "This will be the longest stretch you've done." Even with the supersonic jet, it'll take them some hours to get to Russia, and once they're there Charles will have to be with them the entire time.

 

            Charles puts down the headpiece, smiles. "You take care." He touches Erik's chest, walks up until they're inches apart.

 

            "I've worked towards this for years." The feelings of pain and rage, the dominating emotions of the past twenty years, are out of place here. But they'll serve, if only for one last time, they'll serve. "I will destroy him."

 

            Charles looks down, shakes his head. "Please." _Don't become a murderer for his sake_.

 

            Erik gives humourless laugh. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that." Flashes of memory he knows Charles will see, the many corpses he left in the wake of his search for Shaw.

 

            "Please." It's a plea. Charles would kneel down if the chair wasn't in the way. _Please don't not, not now. I love you. I won't see you commit murder._

"Revenge." Erik answers.

 

            Charles shakes his head, Erik can feel him trying to find the right words for what he wants to say. He's wanted to say this for a long time now. "Did you ever see the trial last year? The Eichmann trial?"

 

            Erik frowns, "I read about it."

 

            "I saw it. On the screen. I watched it because I thought- it was justice, after-"

 

            "I know."

 

            Charles' eyes are bright, and burningly determined, and he's smiling. "Do you know what I saw? A little man in a glass box. To stop snipers, you see." Charles lifts his hands, as though trying to capture the right words by hand. "He looked pathetic. Everyone remarked on it. Just cringing in a box. Alone. Surrounded by all the people he'd tried to kill, and who were getting revenge on him. They read out his crimes for everyone to hear. So that everyone would know what a monster he was, and so he knew he would go down in history as that monster. And that they'd hang him, and that was too good for him, he deserved much, much worse, but because everyone here was not a monster they were just going to hang him and be done with it."

 

            Charles pauses, breathing quickly to catch his breath. "I know you asked me not to argue, but please. You're-" A harsh laugh, "You're such a good person, it kills me when you think like this." Erik numbly cradles Charles' cheek, he can feel a muscle there twitch. "Please. Don't think this is the only way you'll get your revenge. Capture him. Knock out his mutant guards and take him alive. Let him stand in that glass box. Let him hear his crimes aired to everyone. Tell them about what he did to you, to me, to your mother. That he murdered her in front of you and just about did the same to us. That he- tortured you, broke our bond."

 

            Charles swallows, pauses, a deep breath. "And you won't be the only one. There'll be others he hurt, maybe just like you. And he'll have to hear it all, and see it broadcast to everyone. No one will believe him about mutants. They'll think he's mad. And then they'll hang him like Eichmann and it won't have been revenge, it will have been _justice_."

 

            Charles' breath catches. Erik wants to say something, but nothing comes, he lifts Charles' head and presses their foreheads together.

 

            _I can't stop you. But please. You don't think I wouldn't want to see him pay? After everything he's done? I lived through it with you. But don't make it this easy for him, or this destructive for you. He's not worth that. Let the CIA have him. Please._

There aren't any words even in Erik's mind. He rubs Charles' back and holds him, raw and shaking. It's not anger so much as outrage and bewilderment, that someone could have hurt them this badly, and why? They suffered for so long and so much, and what for? So a vicious, cruel madman could do- what?

 

            Charles lets his breath out in a shudder, and looks up at Erik, tilting his face back for a kiss. He tastes of metal and ozone, the air inside Cerebro. "Please. Come back the same person you left."

 

            Erik nods, so close their faces touch. "You will be there. We'll both be safe. I promise." _I will come back. I promise. I don't understand what you see in me. I'm not even sure it's there. But what there is is yours, I promise._

 

            One final kiss, hard and burning to singe their lips and last to Russia and back, and Erik drags himself away.

 


	2. ...and Kingdom Come

**... and Kingdom Come **

 

            It will take them several hours to reach Russia. Charles knows this. He should be resting, take a leisurely meal and build up his strength for what will be a long day.

            Instead, he does none of this, having Hank pack him some sandwiches, a thermos of tea and some blankets so he can camp out in Cerebro instead. He settles in the chair- Erik manages to make metal comfortable, and with a few cushions and blankets it's positively decadent- and pulls on the helmet. He's not going to sleep here, not with both Erik and Raven gone, so he may as well go where he can sleep.

            He can't feel Erik. The bond is still there, warm and strong, but he's out of telepathic range and being alone in his thoughts for the first time in more than a week makes Charles want to claw at his head until it opens and he can get Erik back.

            "Ready?" Hank glances at him warily, he's entertaining a very vivid picture of what Erik would do to him if anything goes wrong. "Are you sure about this?"

            "Yes." Charles nods, pulling the helmet down, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

            This time, when the rush of sounds and images come, he moves through them, back inside his own mind and along the bond, bright and warm and still cracked here and there, although the damage is healing. He leaves Hank and the facility and even America behind, launching out into the darkness of the ocean where only the lone lights of sailors mark out the distances, and the plane already leaving shore.

            _Charles?_

The plane is hardly comfortable, a tube with seats in, but Erik is trying to sleep anyway, with as much success as Charles was anticipating.

            _Yes, I couldn't sleep either. I thought I would come and keep you company_. Charles hesitates, _is that okay_?

            _Yes._ He can feel Erik inside his mind now, checking for any pain, or anything besides tiredness. _And we can sleep now?_

            As if from an immense distance- which it is - Charles feels himself smile. He projects comfort and warmth, security, and Erik adds the odd but pleasant sensation of being surrounded by metal all around, humming and friendly and safe. Charles closes his eyes and anchors himself in Erik's mind. _Wake me when we arrive._

           

            _Charles?_

            It seems barely a snapshot of time, but already the jet is hissing down to land. _So soon?_

 _It's a very fast jet. Are you rested?_

            It's confusing, waking up in two places at once, but Charles is putting himself back together. _I'll be fine_. In America, he's watching himself clumsily unscrewing the thermos, in Russia, Erik, Moira and Raven are getting out of the plane to meet their contacts and their truck. The light is grey and Moira's watch reads 8.03. One o'clock in the USA. It had taken only four hours to cross the Atlantic.

            Maybe it was Cerebro, or sleeping inside Erik's mind, but Charles feels completely awake. The tea and sandwiches help and by the time the truck is on the move he's back with them, curled up and happy.

            Erik smiles, leaning over to Raven, who's sitting next to him in the guise of a burly soldier. "Charles says hello."

            The man's rugged face splits into Raven's broad grin. It's a disturbing sight.

            There's a banging on the compartment from where Moira and the contact are driving. "I'm sorry, this wasn't on the map."

            Erik looks through, it's a checkpoint. _Charles, can you get us through_?

            Charles smiles, Erik must have felt it because he nods. "Keep driving."

            The contact stares at him, "What? But-"

            "Drive." Moira nudges him.

            Charles reluctantly pulls away from Erik, and jumped through neural non-space to the minds of the checkpoint guards. They see nothing, he tells them. Just an empty road. Just a replay of the last couple of hours they've been standing in the cold dawn light. As the truck approaches, he pushes one of them to open the gate, and wipes their mind of the memory when it's done.

            Then, once the truck is out of hearing, he jumps back into Erik's mind and sighs in relief, like coming back inside after standing in the cold.

 

* * *

 

            Erik doesn't know whether its due to the cold or the tension but by the time the helicopter arrives he's knotted up and so tense he can barely stay still. This is not how he wants to go into a fight, unfocused, half his mind back in America with Charles-

            _But half of me is here instead, so it evens out_. He can feel Charles' smile.

            Maybe he's right. Erik had gone into the last confrontation in the right mindset and look what a disaster that had been. He can just about make out Shaw's telepath, dressed in sheer white, but no sign of Shaw himself. Even alone, the sight of her makes him feel ill, what sort of person would willingly work with Shaw? Particularly a telepath, who would know what sort of monster he was. Erik is almost afraid to look for Shaw, unsure of what seeing the man would do to him. For all of Charles' sweet words, Erik doesn't know if he has the self control to keep from murdering the man when he lays eyes on him.

            _You do. You're good and strong, and so much better than that._ It's a flat statement of fact, and it makes Erik smile a little despite himself.

            It fades when the helicopter leaves, leaving the telepath alone. "Where's Shaw?" Hot rage, he'd been prepared for this. Twenty years of being ready and once again-

            "Charles?" Raven whispers, "Can you find out?"

            An odd sensation, Erik realises Charles has just shaken his head. _No, if I read her mind she'll know we're here. Let me try something else._

            Then there's that horrible empty feeling as Charles focuses Cerebro elsewhere, like someone's carved out the bottom of Erik's stomach and the rest of him is in danger of falling in. His hands twitch and it's an effort to stay still and not race over and tear into the guards and the general and the telepath and just- just-

            _It's okay_. A shadow of _wellit'snotokaybutnevermind_ , and _He's not coming_.

            Erik clenches his fist so hard his knuckles crack. "He's not coming, apparently." He glances at Raven, inclining his head slightly. She nods just a little.

            There's a conspicuous silence in his mind as Charles very deliberately does not share his thoughts of their plan. Erik send a short feeling of _well done_ pleasure back. Before getting up, Raven following.

            "Stop." Moira whispers, "We're here for Shaw, mission aborted."

            Raven hesitates, Erik shakes his head. "The hell it is." This is Shaw's telepath, the woman who stopped him last time. Take her out of the equation and their work is suddenly easier. Then Shaw wouldn't have anywhere to hide from Cerebro, they could track him all over the world. Besides, she willingly works for Shaw, is trusted by him enough to be allowed to liaise with his Russian allies. She's dangerous and vile, and Erik is not going to let her walk out of here.

            "The CIA invading the home of a senior Soviet official? Are you crazy?"

            _Charles_?

            _I'm here,_ a little reluctantly, _I suppose it was impossible for this to end without a fight?_

            _Quite._

            "I'm not CIA, and neither's she." Raven grins and jumps up after him.

            It's a hard sprint through the woods and towards the house. _Go, quickly. I'm distracting the guards but I can't do too much or I'll alert the telepath._

            Raven is pacing him, shifting back into her blue form to concentrate on running. Apparently having Capitalists invading the home of a Soviet official is bizarre enough on its own not to matter if one of them is blue. Crossing the lawn is surreal, the guards stare straight ahead as though they aren't there. _Where?_ He sends to Charles.

 _Through the main doors, up the corridor and through the door at the end. There are two guards in there but I can't stop them without being noticed._ Pause. _Don't hurt anyone, please? I can only explain away so much damage._ Erik grins.

            The two guards inside stare at them - or particularly Raven- with eyes like saucers. Erik grabs their guns and shreds them with an emotion that's more fierce joy than hate or fear. Together, they are invincible. They walked into a home under the highest security and no one could stop them. He smashes the butt of the rifle against one guard's chin, while Raven shifts into a huge form and charges the second, crushing him against the wall.

            She stumbles back, one hand to her head, dazed from the impact. The guard just groans. Erik gives her a wild grin. "I'll show you how to fight one day." She grins back.

            _You are both enjoying this far too much._ But even Charles is caught up in this, and his excitement is palpable.

 

* * *

 

            The thrill lasts until the door is opened on a bizarre sight. The general on the bed, doing something obscene to thin air, and the telepath sitting on the sofa in her underclothes.

            Charles cannot blame the general for his actions, he's being manipulated by the telepath- _and since his sub died in '42 it's a relief to find any connection, with anyone-_ Charles shakes his head. _Focus_. He can't slip up now, although he's getting tired from controlling all these minds. He quickly puts the general to sleep. As far as the man knows, he's having a nice nap dreaming about a lovely blonde woman, and Shaw never turned up at all.

            The telepath gets up and ripples, shockingly like Raven. Only instead of turning blue, she's made of diamond, gleaming and whole, throwing rainbows around the room. Her presence, which had previously been the solid hum of telepathic walls, suddenly goes dead. Not dead, but reflective, only echoing the sounds of the room - the general's dreams, Raven's involuntary _wowIhavetoseeifIcandothat_ and Erik's _nodamnyounotgettingawayifnotShawthenyou_ -

            _Erik_.

            "I don't know where your telepath is," the woman's voice is like silver bells, her smirk throws reflections of scarlet and blue. "But he won't be getting anything while I'm like this."

            She tries to run, but suddenly Raven's eight feet tall and huge again, and crushes her against the table as she tries to jump it. A sudden sharp jag of pain and Raven cries out, shoving the woman away - she goes flying and hits the footboard of the bed. Raven switches back and hugs herself, shock and pain and bewilderment at the sight of the hundreds of small cuts across her body from the edges of diamond.

            The woman smirks again, this time the scarlet on her body is not all refracted light.

            _Are you-_

            "I'm fine." Raven snaps. "Get her."

            Erik has the woman tied up with the bedframe, and his mind is like a knifeblade. He pays Raven and Charles no attention, crouched in front of the telepath. "Where's Shaw?"

            _Erik_ \- Charles doesn't know how to touch Erik's mind, every part of it is suddenly jagged and raw, to touch would be to hurt and be hurt.

            The woman doesn't answer. Charles feels her mind lash out and blocks it quickly. It cracks and crumbles like a wave on rocks, but Charles flinches. It feels like paper cuts in his brain.

            Another piece of the bed curls around her throat, and Charles can feel Erik tightening it, a mockery of a collar. Twist like winding thread, pull tight. Erik's focus narrowing down to that one point, and how he can feel the diamond start to crack under the strain, as the metal turns from brass to steel to something Erik doesn't have a name for, strong enough to break her in half.

            _Erik, please_. It's not so much for the woman's sake - she hurt Raven - but for Erik's. There's some kind of sick metamorphosis going on his mind, turning the fierce, protective, loving man he knows into the edge of a blade. Nothing but focus, dredging up _hatehatehatehate_ with every twist.

            _Erik!_

            He doesn't hear, Raven gets up and walks over tentatively, not daring to touch Erik, staring in bemused horror. Her blood is leaving dark trails down clothes already ruined from shifting into too many shapes.

            Then it ends, Erik releases the woman's neck and lets her go. She flies back into flesh and shockingly loud. Mind screaming senseless and soundless chaos. He's in her mind before Erik suggests it, if only to make her stop.

            Everything there is broken, and for a moment Charles is terrified they did it. But no, it's old damage, having her neck nearly broken by Erik isn't even scratching the surface. Everything is ruins and burning and burnt and black and dead and twisted so much Charles can't imagine what it had once been.

            He pulls out and the woman smiles, staring at Charles hiding behind Erik's mind. _I- I can't_. It's hard enough maintaining focus. He's been Cerebro for hours now and his control is coming apart at the edges.

            "You have to." Erik's voice is hard. _We have not come all this way for nothing_. "Find his plans at least."

            Looking at this woman - Emma Frost- is like looking at a bath full of razorblades and contemplating climbing in. Everything is shot to pieces and - dear god, who did this?

            The plans are dark mirrors, filled with a sort of reversed joy that makes Charles dizzy to experience, even vicariously. There are ruins in these mirrors too, real ruins, images of a people and world laid bare by nuclear attack. Humans hunted down and massacred. Mutants empowered by radiation holding sway over a dead world. People bowing down to their new mutant rulers. He recognises Frost, and two others whose minds are almost in as bad a state as her own and- that has to be Shaw, being bowed to like a king-

            Charles drags his mind away, the image of Shaw splintercracked with all the associated memories, control, torture, a perverse mockery of a bond, and Charles cries out, shaking his head over and over within Cerebro's helmet- _make it stop_ -

            "Beautiful, isn't it?"

 

* * *

 

            "Charles?" Erik's voice is tentative.

            _hurts_

            "Please, are you alright?

            He feels Charles trying to gather himself together. There are bits of his mind all over the room. _can't do this much longer_

            "You won't have to." He turns his back on the telepath. To look at her is to invite new madness.

            Charles' thoughts blur _howcanIexplainthis_ a rush of disjointed images of ruin and disaster. A pause, then the thoughts come clipped and short, to get it done now and fast.

            _Shaw's not working with the Russians. He wants to destroy everything. He's working towards nuclear war. He's-_ words fail, an image suggesting a black hole, decay, everything dying _\- he's insane. He thinks nuclear war will make us stronger-_

"Us?"

            _Mutants. He's a mutant too - he wants- he's insane. I don't know what he is or- what he can do, but-_

            "Shh." Erik closes his eyes. Charles' presence is a wavering thing, tentative with exhaustion and shock and-

            _Don't be afraid of me_. He's almost begging.

            _You almost killed her_.

            _She works for Shaw_.

            _Shaw got to her too, like he got to you only longer. He's had her for - a long time- he's-_ again that wordless, helpless image of destruction.

            "Erik?" Raven is holding the now-flesh telepath, "I knocked her out," she explains. "Is he ok?"

            Erik doesn't answer, closing his eyes again. _I'm sorry, I -_ he doesn't know what to say. _Just hold out a little longer, until we get out, then it'll be over._

            _Okay_. He can almost taste Charles' exhaustion, and the distance he's trying to maintain. Part of Erik wants to scream _What did you expect? I tried to warn you. I am not a good man._ The rest just wants to curl up somewhere with shame and self-hatred for having frightened Charles and hurt him.

            _Neither. Please. Just come home. No more pain and hurting. Just come home._

            "Yes." He nods at Raven. "We're going."

            They meet Moira waiting for them at the truck, she looks about to speak but Erik shakes his head. Plenty of time for that when they get to the plane. For now they just need to go.

            _It's okay now_. Erik sends as they sit in the truck. _You can let go_.

            _Need to get you through the checkpoint again._ Miserable and dogged.

            Erik lifts a hand, trying to send something through the bond that Charles can feel, a caress. _You've done so well, we couldn't have done it without you. You can rest soon. I'm sorry._

 _  
_

* * *

 

            Charles doesn't move when Cerebro is turned off. Even with his eyes closed, the light sears his brain. Everything hurts, as though someone sandpapered every nerve under his skin. His muscles are screaming as though he'd run from Russia, instead of having been sat here since-

            "Time?" He croaks when Hank comes over to check on him.

            "Four PM on Thursday." He lifts the headpiece off and Charles groans, the sounds around him are too loud. "You've been hooked up for about eighteen hours."

            Charles opens his eyes and the world is a mass of blurry colour which still manages to rip into the back of his mind like needles. He closes them again quickly.

            "Um, the tea's cold, but do you want some?"

            "Please." The plastic cup is held to his lips and Charles swallows the cold, strong tea. His telepathy's off, everything's buzzing and unclear. This is worse than the time he spent a day in New York.

            Another cup of tea and Charles feels ready to tackle the impossible task of standing. Like all impossible tasks, it's best to take it one step at a time. First he sits forward, hunching over head down until the world stop spinning, gets a firm purchase with his feet, and holds out one arm to Hank.

            He keeps his eyes firmly shut until he's finally upright, the world sways and rocks and the floor is every direction except down. Hank helps him over to the stairs and pauses. "It might help if you open your eyes for this bit, Professor."

            Professor? Oh yes, that silly nickname they'd given him. Deciding this was not the moment to debate names, Charles opens his eyes a crack. He swallows. "Get me down quickly."

             Hank starts down the stairs. "Are you going to be okay?"

            "I'm about to be sick."

            Fortunately, by the time he got to that point, they were outside and Charles could vomit behind a bush in some privacy. Hank gets him back to the facility, and settled him the apparently rebuilt lounge with even more cushions than before and an icepack.

            The world stops spinning eventually, and when the sun goes down Charles can open his eyes at last. Everything is managing to be both raw and numb at the same time. His telepathy is still erratic, offering only the occasional flash of thought. It's a relief, although it only reinforces the feeling of being alone in the huge space of his mind.

            He curls up around the bond. There's no way to talk properly at this range, but Erik feels him and projects calm and comfort until Charles finally relaxes. By what he can make out, they're on their way back to the plane and should be back by morning. A sense of mock-caution connected to an image of their recruits. Charles smiles.

            He must have fallen asleep, because he's slowly surfacing from a sleep so deep there wasn't space for dreams. The noise filtering in is hard to make out, a mixture of actual sound and telepathic input. He sits up on sofa and rubs his face, trying to make sense of it.

            "- See? You woke him."

            "Hey, the circus is in town-"

            A hand on his shoulder and a cold draining flash of a broken bond, bleeding out psychic energy. Charles flinches away; the girl, Angel, is standing next to him, hand still outstretched where she'd been about to pull a blanket more closely around him. _Shockpainhurt_ and her face shutters before she turns away.

            "You okay Professor?" Hank is standing by the window, the curtains closed.

            Charles' telepathy wavers back on and he catches the mocking, cold laughter of the agents outside. He wrenches his mind away and everything wanders in and out like a badly-tuned radio.

            "I'm fine." Nothing a night in bed - _with Erik_ \- wouldn't cure. "What was that about?" He waves a hand towards the window.

            "Just some guys being stupid." The boy sitting in the sofa opposite shrugs. Sean Cassidy, Charles remembers, a mutant with an extraordinary voice. A Submissive, _"But hey, my Dom's half a world away so maybe after this is over I can go look for her, yeah?"_

            "Guys being stupid I can handle, I've handled it my whole life." Angel is staring at him. If she had any other name she's never told them, and Charles hasn't dared look. It's hard to even look at her. Her lip curls. "But I'd rather a bunch of guys look at me with my clothes off than the way these ones stare at me." _or the way you do_. It's not spoken so loudly it hurts.

            "What happened over there?" The oldest boy there, Alex, who locked himself up out of fear of what his powers would do to those close to him. Who has a little brother he never speaks of, and when Charles had asked where _his_ Dominant was, the reaction had almost been violent.

            "Shaw wasn't there." Charles rubs his temples again, trying to get his telepathy to behave. "We caught his-" There isn't a word for what Emma had been to Sebastian Shaw, Charles hopes there never will be -"His telepath. Erik and Raven are coming back now." It's all Charles wants to say on the subject.

            "Was there a fight?" Alex smirks, "Must have been pretty cool."

            Cool was not the word. He really doesn't want to go into any more detail, but before he can think of anything to say, the last member of their little group breaks in.

            "Leave him alone, that couldn't have been much fun." Charles smiles gratefully, Armando, or Darwin if he really wants, is the only Dominant in their little group, and it's good to have someone taking charge, with the others away and Charles finding it hard to keep his own head in order. In fact-

            Charles blinks, looking from Alex to Darwin. "You never told me-" In fact, he hadn't seen them in the same room since last night, and that had been too distracting for him to notice - "Congratulations." He adds weakly.

            Again, the wrong thing to say, Alex glares at him and stalks off back to the pinball machine. Darwin watches him go, radiating _iwishtherewassomethingcantdoesntwantmeto_ and follows Alex.

            Charles closes his eyes, everything's out of joint and confusing without his powers.

 

* * *

 

            "So you'll teach me to fight?" Raven is smiling at him.

            "Not that you didn't acquit yourself very well back there." Erik nods. "Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

            Raven's smile fades, and she glances away. "Those years you were gone? They were rough all round. For both of us."

            Silence. If Erik is to find out more it'll be from Charles or not at all. Some griefs are private. He knows that better than anyone. "Thank you."

            "For what?"

            "For looking after him when I couldn't."

            Raven smirks, "It's wasn't just one way, you know. He did his fair share of looking after me, particularly at the beginning."

            It isn't the same though, Charles kept Raven safe and happy, she kept him alive. A world of difference. A debt Erik can't ever repay. It's odd that this doesn't bother him anymore.

            "Didn't stop him from being an idiot sometimes, though." She adds. "I wonder if it's just him, or are all telepaths so unbearable?"

            "I wouldn't know." And despite everything, Shaw and the twenty years and the mess of today, Erik is feeling _smug_ , because Charles is his and his alone, and he is without a doubt the luckiest person on earth. Raven just doesn't know what she's missing.

            Raven is about to make some retort, when Erik's smile fades and everything goes cold as though he was back in the ocean again. A shock of fear through the bond. Something's wrong.

 

* * *

 

            It's after the third dull, distant thud that it hits Charles, the _ohnoohgodimgonnadie-_ followed by a spike of pain and darkness.

            "What was that?" Darwin's voice comes from a long way off.

            Charles' mind hurts, and for a moment he's in the air, falling again-again-again-

            -then it stops and he's back in the common room, hands clenched on the sofa like a lifeline.

            "Something doesn't feel right." Darwin has a protective arm around Alex's waist, which is shoved away at once.

            They crowd towards the window as Hank opens the curtains. There's a flash of something in the building opposite, a flicker on the face of the moon. Then a scream, out loud this time, and a body crashing to the courtyard outside. Charles stumbles back into the arm of the couch. It's Lewin. Even through his bulk and his suit he can see the smashed frame of his body. Dead in an instant.

            The searchlights are on in the next instant, only to illuminate more people, falling from the sky. It's a situation that in any place other than reality would be funny. Out of some child's cartoon. But cartoons don't show the way bodies break when dropped from so high, or how people scream when they fall, or how - in a flash when his powers flicker - there's time for them to realise every detail of what's going to happen before they hit the ground.

            They reel back, and this time Alex doesn't protest Darwin's arm around him, Charles bumping shoulders with Angel and not noticing, Sean stumbling over the coffee table.

            "Do something!" Hank's staring at him.

            Charles shakes his head. "I can't, I-" he puts his hands to his head, "I spent too long in Cerebro." _Erik, wherever you are please hurry._

            "Damn it!" Darwin's eyes are so wide he can see the whites around them. "We can't just-"

            The sounds of gunfire from across the compound makes them jump, another flash in the mind of frightened men, armed to the teeth, aiming them at a lone man, neatly dressed, wearing a strange helmet-

            _Shaw_.

 

* * *

 

            "What is it?" Raven's voice is coming from a long distance off, drowned out by a storm of panic and terror pouring through the bond. Erik drags at his own hair, he can feel Charles screaming at him to _do something_ , around him the girders groan and when he opens his eyes both Raven and Moira are staring at him in fear.

            "Charles." He manages through teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. "Oh god. Charles."

            "What?" Moira unbuckles herself from the seat and stumbles over to the pilot's cabin. "Put in a call to HQ, check what's happening."

            "What's going on?" Raven demands.

            _Do something_. The straps holding Erik in snap free and he collapses to the floor, still clutching his head, trying to break loose of the storm in his mind. _Charles, please-_

He has to calm him, or they'll both go mad.

            He tries to press reassurance through the bond. Calm, don't panic. I am coming. Be safe. Save yourself if you have to. Hide and I will find you. I will be with you- _oh god fool why did you leave him what did you think would happen?_

            "We're not getting an answer!" The pilot shouts back. "All the lines are dead!"

            "They're under attack." Moira speaks for all of them.

            "Shaw." Erik grits out, closing his eyes. Calm. Calm. Control. Panic will not help. Panicking might tear the plane to pieces. Deep breaths. Control. "How long?"

            "What? We've barely left Russia! Another four hours at least, and then another two to reach the facility."

            Control. In the back of his mind Erik can feel Charles scrabbling at their bond, trying to find something- anything. He's tired and his powers aren't working and he's terrified. _No fear, be calm. Don't move. I'm coming._ Too late, but coming all the same. Erik sends his mind down into the jet's engines and _pushes_ , driving the plane through the dragging air. He can hear the pilots shouting something distantly, but pays it no attention, focusing on the plane and on the bond. _I'm here. Whatever might happen. I'm here with you_.

 

* * *

 

            The worst part is that Charles knows what is happening. The tornado that destroys Cerebro is from one of Shaw's mutants, a man with no name since Shaw had Emma remove his tongue in front of the man's Dominant, the red teleporter who- god- who's dropping all these men to their deaths. And the third intruder, the one all these guns and rockets and who-knows-what are exploding around, is Shaw himself.

            In a moment when his telepathy returns Charles screams _Stop shooting!_ at the men, because it won't do any good, he's seen Shaw through Emma's eyes and they're only making him stronger. His words reverberate over nothing, the room is empty, no minds left there. They're all dead. They're all dead and he can't feel Shaw and that's more terrifying than anything.

            He can feel Erik there, in the back of his mind, trying to project calm while being close to screaming himself. _Please. Please not again. Please._

            They're all backed up against the wall, as far from the windows and doors as they can manage. Charles grabs Sean when the boy tries to run. "Stay still!" If they move, they'll be targets.

            The teleporter is standing in the courtyard, among a pile of corpses, and smiling at them through the smashed glass.

            No, not at them. Charles turns his head, carefully as though afraid the bones will snap, and sees the nameless man climbing in through the other window. Neatly dressed, smiling back.

            Shots. "You want the mutants? They're right through that door! Just let us normal people go! We're no threat-" A final shot.

            Somewhere in Charles' mind, somewhere beyond his ragged powers and Erik's desperate presence and his own terror, part of him is almost curious when the shadow appears behind the frosted glass window. He's about to come face to face with the man who did his best to destroy his and Erik's lives, who caused the twenty year long nightmare. Somewhere beyond the fear, Charles would like to see that face.

            Shaw's very neatly dressed, like his two compatriots - followers and victims-, all in black, with that strange helmet. Charles can't feel him, even with his powers no longer working he can still feel everything in the low-frequency buzz of thoughts, but Shaw is nothing, a black void, a bullet hole in the world. He's empty and cold and dead, and Charles' composure deserts him and his backs up to the wall until his back is pressed up against it. Cold sweat prickling up his spine and the back of his neck. _Erik-_

            "Where's the telepath?"

            The teleporter, the red demon, inclines his head at Charles. Shaw looks at him. Everything feels suddenly very detached, as though Charles were standing outside his body feeling Erik screaming soundlessly through the bond, watching his own fear, and the way the others cluster around him protectively.

            Shaw steps forwards, he's tall and thin, with dead cold reptilian eyes that rake up and down Charles once before resting on his collar a moment. He smiles. He can think, clearly, but Charles can't feel or hear it, everything he feels in that direction is just sucked into nothing, deadening everything around Shaw. His skin crawls.

            "I wouldn't be trying anything." Shaw's voice is dry and pleasant, unchanged from the last time Charles heard it, in Erik's memories. He taps the side of his strange helmet. "I had this commissioned from the nice boys in Moscow, very particular specifications, I'll admit, but I can be very persuasive." Still smiling, still walking towards Charles. With hands that don't feel like his own, Charles tries to push the others behind him. No one else needs to be in the line of fire.

            _Erik_. He's clawing at the bond, trying to reach through, a sudden flash of memory transported back twenty years to his bedroom, screaming as he felt Shaw torture Erik. He hadn't known what Shaw had done until Erik had shown him, but he'd felt it. Oh dear god had he felt it.

            "Protective? How quaint." Shaw pauses in front of them, looks at them. "But I suppose you had to get used to it here, didn't you. Surrounded by all these people. All these _humans_." Charles can see them all reflected in those empty basilisk eyes, half a dozen children and half-grown adults cowering against the wall. And Charles, staring like a rabbit in headlights. _Erik, he's standing there in front of me, looking right at me. Erik please help._

            But Shaw is still smiling, still- Charles realises belatedly- trying to exude pleasantness, all body language and no thoughts, like watching a puppet mimicking a human. He looks away from Charles, and at the children clustered around him. "Where are my manners? Good evening to you all.  I am Sebastian Shaw."

            And Charles realises he doesn't know. He doesn't know who Charles is, or about Erik. Charles is just a telepath, a potential threat to be neutralised with appropriate defences. For all Shaw's done, for all those he's killed and ruined and tortured, he can't read minds. Something that comes to Charles as easily as breathing, and Shaw can't do it. Unless someone speaks it aloud, Shaw has no idea who he really is, he has no way of looking into Charles and seeing Erik on the other side. He might as well be blind.

            Somehow this makes it even more frightening. Charles can feel his ribcage and spine dig into the wall as though trying to climb in and away. Charles has no idea what this man is about to do and it could be anything.

            "I am not here to hurt you."

            _Much too late. So much. And you killed everyone._ Charles swallows, running his tongue over bone dry lips. A thousand miles away, Erik is screaming and raging fit to tear the plane out of the sky. _Please, shh_. Telepathy or not, Charles can't believe Shaw isn't hearing them. He must be broadcasting loud enough to deafen.

            Outside in the courtyard, one of the last soldiers are cut down by the teleporter. Shaw doesn't even turn to look. "My friends, there's a revolution coming, when mankind discovers who we are, what we can do." He looks at Charles again, "You know. Tell them." He's smiling again, like a very convincing human mask."Tell them what they were thinking," Shaw continues, "All these humans you shared a building with. What they thought of you all. Tell them what that man outside was thinking, when he handed you all over, just to save his filthy hide."

            Charles swallows, is suddenly certain he's about to be sick. Shaw's so close Charles can see every line in his face, every shadow in his eyes, and he's not there at all, like talking to a manikin. "One man." Charles croaks. From Erik a roar of fury, dismay _don't attract attention, don't talk, hide_. "One man out of an entire compound. You had to kill all of them to get to us. It doesn't matter what they thought. They died for us."

            The words drift and are swallowed up by the darkness, sparks against the night, candles against the sea. Futile and doomed. Shaw is no longer smiling. Even if Charles were able to access his powers, he could do nothing. He's as weak as any human while Shaw wears that helmet, and he's seen enough from Erik and Emma's memories to know the man could hurt him very, very badly. "Is that what he told you to say? The one who gave you this?" Shaw flicks his fingers against the collar around Charles' neck. For a single heart-freezing moment, Charles is sure he's guessed, he's recognised Erik's powers in the metal, that he _knows_ -

            "I take it, it's not one of you?" Shaw turns to the others. None of them move. "Thought so." Shaw looks back at him, a pitying look. "To see one of our kind collared by human, how sad."

            _Don't tell him please don't please_. He's not sure if any of them hear. It's impossible to sense if his powers are working or not, Shaw's bending everything out of shape, like a heavy weight against fabric, everything around him crumbling like sand. He continues, as though Charles hadn't spoken at all. "Now, each of us faces a choice. Be enslaved, or rise up to rule."

            Seeing Charles about to risk speaking again, Shaw raises a hand. "It's clear for all to see what side you've chosen. I have no time to talk with self-proclaimed chattel."

            Yes, Charles can see that now. It isn't about him at all. That's actually worse, if that could be possible. Before, he'd though Shaw would try and kill him, or take him or- he really doesn't want to imagine what could have happened- but it would be just him, and the others would be left alone. But that's not why Shaw came. Not at all.

            "Choose freely but know that is you are not with us then by definition you are against us. So, you can stay, and fight for the people who hate and fear you;"

            _Who died for you_. Charles wants to scream, he hopes they hear.

            "Or you can join me, and live like kings." He looks at Angel, who meets his gaze. "And queens." Charles' throat knots up. She takes Shaw's hand.

            _No._ He tries to shout, _Please don't you don't know what you're doing_. He should have explained. He should have told them what kind of monster Shaw was, he should have said-

            He should have said something to the woman whose eyes he still can't bear to meet.

            "Come on," her voice is breaking. "We don't belong here." She looks at Charles, one last time.

            He tries. He meets her eyes but even now, through his fear and Shaw's draining non-presence and her own desperate hungry hope, he can feel the loss, the broken parts of her mind that crush against the healing parts of his until he wants to scream. He looks away. Angel nods, satisfied. "And that's nothing to be ashamed of."

            _No, please, that's not what I meant. Don't go with him, please stay let me explain please understand-_ If she heard, she ignores him, turning her back on Darwin's outstretched hand and leaving with Shaw and the teleporter and the nameless man.

            Charles snatches Darwin's sleeve just as he's about to go after them. He can't read him enough to know why but he's not going to lose anyone else. Alex pulls at him. "We've got to do something."

            "He'd kill you." Charles tries to keep his voice steady. "He'd kill all of us, like he did everyone else here."

            Darwin hesitates, still staring out at Angel. "Don't." Charles repeats. _She's not yours, and you have someone to care for now. Don't, please._

            And maybe Darwin hears, because he stops, turns back to them, and briefly meets Alex' eyes before lowering his head.

 _Erik, he's going._ His thoughts sound broken even in his own mind. _He's going and he taking Angel and I can't stop him._

            The flood of incoherent relief is blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes about some of the characterisations in this, while I'm not very familiar with Comic!Azazel, Riptide or Shaw, I am quite familiar with Emma Frost. And Emma's reaction to Shaw declaring his nuclear war annihilation plan would have been -   
>  "That's nice dear. Oh silly me! I dropped your helmet over the side! Oops, I made you jump over the side too! It's the Arctic Ocean, oh dear!" *snickers*   
>  And then she waits until Shaw's nicely deep frozen before cutting him out and displaying him, ice and all, in her drawing room as a conversation piece. And setting up the Hellfire club with a sensible plan for world domination.  
>  I love Emma, but as this character is not who we see in the movies, I had to make some changes for her to fit in. Let's face it, no sane person would ever sign up to Shaw's plan. It's completely moronic, if nothing else, what are people going to eat once all the food's irradiated and the plants are all weird? Not to mention that while mutants might be resistant to radiation (and how many tests did Shaw do?), they probably aren't to nuclear blasts.


End file.
